


When we can meet again

by LadyMD



Series: Different Roads Sometimes Lead to the Same Castle [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Destiny, Family, Gen, House Stark, Roles, Siblings, Skinchanging, Warging, greensight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 17:18:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8336110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMD/pseuds/LadyMD
Summary: In which we dive as Bran falls to fly in and between visions, dreams, wolf eyes, and trees as he begins his journey as the Three-Eyed Raven in an effort to save the realm, but most of all, save his pack and lead them home before winter comes. (Stand alone oneshot but also a companion to Where Will We Go?)





	

" _Oh my sweet summer child, what do you know about fear? Fear is for the winter, when the snows fall a hundred feet deep. Fear is for the long night, when the sun hides for years and children are born and live and die, all in darkness. That is the time for fear, my little lord, when the white walkers move through the woods."_

 

_**Bran** _

_I had to get them home._

That was the first thought I had when I woke up – _when I came back._

I had to get them _all_ home.

I saw them all.

I've _seen_ where they are, where they've been, where they'll go.

_We were all lone wolves, and winter was coming._

A chill crept up my bones, my already wide eyes were wider, my chest was heaving as the tremors took me. But it was a far different cold that kissed my body, my bones, my _soul._

Robb was gone but I _saw_ what happened to him. Saw how I could _change_ it. If I did it, I could change _everything._ But I can't. I _can't._

" _The past is written, the ink is dry."_

I gritted my teeth, and my chest constricted.

I blinked and tried to steady my panicked self, trying to focus on _nothing_ or _something._ My mind was running too fast with all that I've seen and all that I have managed to process.

I chose to look up at the night sky.

_The moon was a sharp crescent, thin and sharp as the blade of the knife…_

I heaved.

Find a _focus._

Find a _center._

And then I saw it.

The _Ice Dragon._

I took deep breaths and focused on its blue eye – the same blue eye that we've been following ever since we left Winterfell – the eye that would always point _North._

We've followed the eye to the Wall then beyond. Now we had to follow the tail and it brought us here, _south_ but still north of the Wall where we were headed. It would still take maybe a fortnight or maybe even a moon's turn with the weather before we could reach it but for now, Meera and I had to stick with Uncle Benjen and camp for maybe a day or two what with the blizzard and the wights... It was just as well because I still had to find out what to do with all I've seen… _plan._ Just thinking of all the possible futures almost brought the hysteria back but focusing back on the Ice Dragon I found my small peace.

_The moon was a cresecent, thin and sharp as the blade of the knife…_

I closed my eyes for a moment. I was calmer now but my chest was still heavy. Each of us has suffered and were still suffering.

Robb was the only one who was…resting.

No matter how much I wanted to help him, it was too late now. He was gone. And I can't change the past.

Not even if I _wanted_ to.

Same as I can't change how confused and scared and intensely _angry_ Rickon was in his hiding. I can't change how Arya was consumed with vengeance and loneliness as she struggles to find herself. I can't change how Jon was struggling – being pulled into two directions, what was right, what was duty, helpless by the deaths he thought he allowed to happen when he chose. And most of all, I can't change how Sansa – the only Stark who finally came back to Winterfell – was both home and in hell for many moons now… many cruel _moons…_

I opened my eyes once more.

The rest of us _needed_ to go home. Or in the very least, find each other. Be a pack again.

Robb was the first lone wolf who died. Who was next?

The _Others_ could take me now in the cold.

The Umbers could surrender Rickon.

Arya could be killed by _No One._

Jon could be betrayed by one side or the other.

And Sansa – Sansa was already _dying_. The only wolf that made it home was wasting away. Each night, from what I saw, a small part of her died and never saw the morning.

I couldn't go yet. But it was time for the others to come home. But…

They were all too far away.

How will I get them home?

I saw their futures. Glimpses of possibilities. There was _hope._

But I fear that I can't - wouldn't – be able to save them _all_.

I've _seen_ it all. In every possible future…

 _One_ more wolf will die. One or the other. One except me...

I would gladly lay my life for my pack but I was the Three-eyed raven now and that comes with so many responsibilities. I don't even think I'm allowed to die. Still... 

It was foolish to be able to think I could save them all. I was a cripple with nothing but _dreams._ How could I _possibly_ save them? And who was I to _choose_ who to help? I had to at least try to save them all.

I don't know if it was possible, but I had to try to find a way to reach them. Tell them what I know. Help them avert their harder fates. I _had_ to try.

How?

_How?_

I wonder if they have wolf dreams too.

If they were wargs, maybe they'll see.

All of them had access to a Godswood save for Arya. So getting to her would be harder…

Think Bran. _Think._ Who should I contact first?

I wanted so badly to be able to talk to Sansa but she was locked away…physically by the Boltons. Mentally… by herself.

Wait. Winterfell. A memory.

" _But he's down here. I saw him. Last night – when I was sleeping."_

_Rickon!_

My little brother was now one and ten and safe at Last Hearth. Surely he must've heard about Sansa?

I thought of my younger brother and closed my eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

_**Last Hearth** _

 

_I opened my eyes to a shifty vision. All my senses were alert tenfold._

_I smelled snow and leather and dried leaves… fur and… something familiar…someone…_

_It was dark and the moon was a crescent, thin and sharp as the blade of the knife…_

_My ears then perked up at the swooshing sound, grunts, and cries just as my head snapped to every direction of every movement, my vision sharp, accurate, and flighty with each new sound._

_I was inside a wolf._

_And from what – or rather – who I'm looking at, I knew whose Direwolf I was inhabiting._

_A tall gangly boy with auburn curls swings his practice sword hastily but with power by the Godswood in Last Hearth._

_Each strike deliberate and aimed and named with each resounding emotion rolling off his body._

_**Thrust from the left.** _

_Anger._

_**Follow forward hit.** _

_Rage._

_**Withdraw.** _

_Frustration._

_**Break.** _

_Desperation_

_**Pivot.** _

_Fear._

_**Lunge.** _

_Frustration._

**Recoil.**

_Hopelessness._

_He was heaving now, his grip on his sword tight, his knuckles as white as the other clenched at his side. His brows were furrowed, his eyes blue and blazing but glistening with tears unshed, mouth parted as he drew angry shaky breaths._

_He looked so much like Robb did when I glimpsed him in battle._

_What has him so emotional?_

_I'd wager it was over Sansa. There was no way he couldn't know._

_I was on fours and tense. His emotions rolled off Shaggydog who mirrored him – as was his senses, tenfold. I sunk back to feel him – attune to him and almost recoiled from the growls wanting to erupt from him – it was encompassing – the rage that I swear I was seeing red, my jaws were clenching, my breathing staggered, drool dripping from my pulled back mouth–low growls were erupting – I wanted to lunge at something._

_Kill._ _**Maim** _ _. Destroy._

_But then a sudden split in the rage emerged as sadness and hopelessness drowned the madness._

_Before I could assert control, I heard us give a keening whine as our head dropped to our paws, alerting Rickon._

_I saw Rickon jerk back and his eyes soften as he saw me – us._

_With a sigh he dropped his sword and knelt before us, his eyes faraway over our shoulder while his hand worked our head._

_Shaggydog whined some more when a wave of frustration hit his master and suddenly we were seeing eye to eye._

_I was struck by how Rickon's eyes mirrored so many of my family's. Those Tully blues had me looking at Mother, Robb, and Sansa and maybe even my own._

_But there was something more in them._

_Ice._

_And raging rivers._

" _Shaggy, I'm happy you're back but maybe you should've stayed with her," he sighed and again I was stunned by how much his voice sounded like Robb did at his age. Only with none of Robb's easy joy but with all of his forced aging. This was Rickon the Lord talking._

_I blinked at his words, confused for a moment when I realized with a shock that he must be talking about Sansa._

_Now all his emotions and actions made sense._

_But his frustration and hopelessness meant that the Umbers were doing nothing._

_I had to talk to him. So I began to assert my control over the black direwolf._

_I nuzzled him then grabbed his tunic with my teeth, dragging him to the weirwood._

" _What are you doing boy? You want me to pray now?" he frowned._

_I let him go when he was near enough and tilted my head at the tree._

_He looked at me like I grew three heads but I didn't know how long this would take and I still had to try with the others so I butted my head on his back a little too hard, making him stumble a bit so he had no choice but to find purchase with the weirwood tree and closed my eyes._

...

"Hello Rickon."

He blinked as he stumbled and fell on snow in front of me before scrambling to right himself, his jaw falling when he saw me.

"Bran?!"

I smiled at him.

We were beyond the Wall again with nothing but snow and more snow and the two of us.

He looked around frantically then back at me, his eyes wide and confused then he gasped.

"You-you're standing!"

I chuckled.

"Yes, brother."

His eye brightened then with understanding. "You met the Three-eyed Raven then? This is your greensight?"

I bent over him and offered my hand. He took it and I helped him up before speaking.

"Well, yes. But I don't have much time to explain I'm afraid, but just know that I'm the Three-eyed Raven now, Rickon. And there's so much I need to tell you – _show_ you even," I sighed.

I could tell he had so much to ask and say, his impatience almost winning but to his credit, and to my surprise, he held his tongue and nodded in acceptance, waiting.

He really did do some growing up.

"You saw Sansa then?" he said in a low terse voice.

I frowned and nodded.

He let out an incredulous breath then looked up at me guiltily. "Brother, I tried. I tried to get the Umbers to rescue her. They can't. I mean, I think they could but – " his hands clenched at his sides as his jaw as he hissed.

"I know. Rickon. But how did you know? And what did you mean when you told Shaggydog that he should be with her? Is that 'her' Sansa?"

He closed his eyes and nodded, letting out a breath. "I've been practicing _skinchanging_. That's what Osha calls it. And I don't know when he left but Shaggy's been to Winterfell. I don't know how he wasn't seen but…I _saw_ through his eyes. He just came back – I mean I knew before that she was there. Lord Umber told me but I saw, Bran. I _saw_ what the _cunt_ was doing to _our_ sister!" he half-yelled at me and again I was taken aback from his expletives.

He turned his back to me and trembled in rage. "I wanted Shaggy to bite the bastard's cock off before tearing him limb from limb right away. But I knew I couldn't. if I so much as go near arrows or blades would kill Shaggy. And it'll only get Sansa into more trouble. But seven hells I wanted to rip the fucker apart and watch him bleed out for a change!"

Then he looked at me and grabbed at my shoulders, his eyes boring into mine. I stepped back a bit staggering from his taller frame.

"What do we do, Bran? I can't send a raven to Jon! The Umbers hate him because of the Wildlings! But he can save her. _We_ can save her! I've thought about running away from here and going to Castle Black but I can't just lose the support of the Umbers."

I placed my hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Calm down, Rickon. It's not safe to go to Castle Black right now. Jon's not there yet."

"What?!"

I sighed. "He'll be back shortly still…" I bit back my tongue before I reveal too much. I knew Jon's fate. It had to happen. My heart broke but he had to "kill the boy and let the man be born."

"Brother, why did Sansa marry the bastard?"

I looked up at him in shock with his question. But regained myself right away as I studied his features. He was sincere and truly baffled.

"It's better if I show you," I said quietly.

His brows drew together. "Show…me?"

I touched his arm then.

…

" _No!"_

" _Sansa – "_

I grabbed Rickon and covered his mouth immediately before he lunged at the scene before us.

"Quiet, brother. I don't know if they can hear us but this is the past. Just observe. Well, I don't really _think_ they can hear us but they might _feel_ us somehow. We can't change it, just watch. _Please."_ I whispered in urgency, holding on to him for dear life. My taller brother was easily stronger than me but I had to put all my strength to stop him from struggling. _"Please_ , Rickon. I'm going to let go of you now but you have to promise you'll just watch. Will you? Will you promise little brother?"

He struggled some more, stilled, then gave a nod and a sigh.

" _No! You can't make me. I will starve myself. I will die before I have to go there." Sansa pleaded, her eyes panicked and frantic._

_Baelish grabbed her and forced her to look at him. "I won't force you to do anything. Don't you know by now how much I care for you? Say the word and we turn the horses round, but listen to me Listen. You've been running all your life. Terrible things happened to your family and you weep. You sit alone in a darkened room, mourning their fates. You've been a bystander to tragedy from the day they executed your father. Stop being a bystander, do you hear me? Stop running. There's no justice in the world. Not unless we make it. You loved your family. Avenge them."_

_He kissed her forehead and walked back to their horses._

_Sansa looked towards Moat Cailin, her hand wringing the other as she thought._

_-I'm so scared.-_

Rickon looked at me in surprise. Those were Sansa's thoughts. We could hear her. I nodded at him then tilted my head to Sansa's direction.

 _-I'm so scared and disgusted. The Boltons killed Robb… killed mother… And I was expected to marry the Bolton Bastard? But… Lord Baelish is right. I've been a bystander for too long. This is_ **my** _chance. I can take back Winterfell. I'm – I'm the last…Stark? No I still believe my little brothers and Arya are out there but with Robb gone… I'm the only Stark known alive… Wait no. Jon. Maybe I should tell Lord Baelish to go to Castle Black first… just to see another family… but – but would Jon welcome me? I've been so awful to him… No. He is bound there. It falls to me. Winterfell falls to me. My family's revenge falls to me.-_

_We saw frost and steel forming in Sansa's eyes as she set her jaw and clenched her hands at her sides._

" _There must always be a Stark in Winterfell," she whispered in the wind, her words falling as icy mists against the cold Northern Wind before she straightened her back, lifted her chin, and mounted her horse._

I saw this before so I watched as Rickon took it all in. His face a canvass of emotions painted in horror, admiration, guilt, and…understanding.

I touched his arm again and in a blink we were in Winterfell. Down at the crypts where Sansa and Littlefinger were conversing once more.

" _Stannis takes Winterfell, he rescues you from the most despised family in the North. Grateful for your late father's courageous support of his claim, he names you Wardeness of the North."_

" _But I—I wouldn't – Wardeness of the North?" Sansa replied bewildered._

" _You are the last surviving Stark. He needs you."_

" _And what if you're wrong? What if Stannis never attacks Winterfell? Or he does and the Boltons defeat him?" Sansa questioned him._

" _Then you will take this Bolton boy, Ramsay, and make him yours…"_

_-I felt like retching. But this was it. It was time to play the game. I've endured so much in King's Landing and the Eyrie… I can't possibly lose not when I'm home. As much as it sickens me, I know what I must do. I have to brave. I'm not porcelain or ivory anymore. I am steel. I can't fight with swords or bows or my hands but I have my mind – my words – my… my… body… Father, mother, Robb please give me strength. -_

I touched Rickon again and we were back beyond the Wall.

He was gritting his teeth in anger and his body trembled. "It was all _his_ fault! I'll _kill_ him! _Where_ is _he_?" He looked at me with murder in his eyes.

I sighed. "It was still Sansa's decision in the end Rickon…"

Tears started welling in his eyes as he kept his rigid stance even as he bowed his head in defeat. "I _know._ But it didn't work. Stannis _lost_. And Ramsay wasn't Sansa's… Sansa was _his."_ He said in a broken voice.

I hugged my brother then and fought to keep from crying too as his body heaved with frustrated sobbing. Suddenly he was six again.

"Our sister is so brave. And strong. She will endure, Rickon. But we have to do everything we can to help her. Be brave little brother and follow the Umbers for now. Try your best to convince them to help our sister but follow them for now. You are right, Rickon. We can't just lose the support of the Umbers. We _need_ all the support we can what with what's _coming."_ I sighed and shook my head. I would have to show him what I meant by that soon but for now I'll let it go. "There is not much we can do, not without an army. I will try to contact Jon and Arya. Yes, only Robb has gone. Make sure to visit the Godswood all the time and I'll talk to you again."

He stopped sobbing then looked at me with Stark eyes. "I promise."

 

* * *

 

_**Castle Black** _

 

_I opened my eyes and saw that I was again inside a wolf. It was cold. Terribly cold and dark._

_The moon was a crescent, thin and sharp as the blade of the knife…_

_It was terribly dark but through this wolf's eyes I saw everything clearly._

_I took in my surroundings and saw that everyone was wearing black and I saw the colossal frozen structure – The Wall. That's – that's the Wall._

_I was in Ghost._

_I was in Castle Black._

_But what was this feeling?_

_I tuned in to Ghost's senses and feelings and saw that he felt a longing._

_And then it fell into place and my heart sunk in realization._

_Jon wasn't back yet and he left Ghost in Castle Black._

_There was no way to contact him and there was too little time to talk to him when he comes back. His mind was a flurry and I haven't really mastered the sight. To see him, I had to have a handle on his mind but right now as I tried once more all I could see was white and only white, hear only the howling of the wind and downpour… and worst of all… I felt his struggle. There was fear. There was courage. But mostly fear. But there was determination._

_But all that has told me was that I can't talk to him. Even if somehow I see him. Ghost was here. The Heart Tree was here…though there were weirwoods out there beyond the Wall, I don't think they would ever stop for them..._

_This only leaves Rickon and Arya but Arya was too far and her mind, volatile, and Rickon could only do so much… completely under the Umber's mercy…_

_Jon…_

_Then suddenly I was pulled into a vision – one that had me slack jawed and wide-eyed._

_No._

_I couldn't interfere with Jon's fate._

 

_But I had to go look for Arya now and get back to Rickon soon._

 

* * *

 

_**???** _

 

_A growl erupted from me as my eyes shifted here and there focusing and refocusing as I finally stopped running, stretched out and let out a resounding howl._

_One by one pairs and pairs of yellow eyes, blue eyes, green eyes, and black eyes, peered from in between the trees, from the darkness as answering howls and growls surrounded me._

_Wolves._

_Wolves surrounded me._

_Teeth bared, eyes focused, heads tilted at me._

_They were waiting._

_For what?_

_One by one they emerged and I lost count of how many but they all looked to me._

_My host was wild and assertive and hard to control. Who was this?_

_I tried to piece together my surroundings. It was warm._

_And damp._

_Trees._

_Numerous trees._

_Raging water._

_The Riverlands._

_I was in the Riverlands._

_Before I could form another thought my host forced me to face the wolves and I felt the host's limbs taut as they pressed forward, its head raising with me submitting and all at once I saw the other wolves lower their heads._

_Whoever my host was, it was the alpha._

_When my host started moving once more I forced control and made it look in the river and then I knew._

_Nymeria._

_Nymeria was alive!_

_And from the clench in its body I felt the tether._

_Arya._

_Arya was near and her presence called at the end of the tether, reaching and pulling…I knew who this was now._

_My host howled invigorated and wild. Yes. Yes, Nymeria. Look for Arya. I showed her an image of where Arya was when I found her at last. She was still days away but until then I can't contact her, not when she wasn't herself._

_Grey Wind, Lady, and Summer were all gone._

_Nymeria was lost and away but under the same sky._

_The moon was a crescent, thin and sharp as the blade of a knife…_

_She was here and I would return her to a Stark once more._

 

* * *

 

 

_**Beyond the Wall** _

 

"Bran?"

I blinked as my eyes focused on Meera's concerned face and Uncle Benjen's slightly amused ones.

Above them the blue eye of the _Ice Dragon_ winked and glowed.

_The moon was a crescent, thin and sharp as the blade of a knife… and snow – heavy white snow, pelting down faster and stronger, waking me with cold hard kisses, the image of the Ice Dragon disappearing and reappearing against white and black._

"What did you see?" Meera asked as she shielded her face from the fast falling snow.

I sighed and lifted my hands to my face. "I can't talk to Jon or Arya. Just Rickon…"

Uncle Benjen grunted and I heard the fire roar as he probably threw more wood before collecting me and bringing me inside a damp, dark, cave right now and as much as our fire roared inside, there was a different howling outside as the worst of the blizzard in days was starting to set in.

"Just as well, nephew. Yer only one man. And plunging yerself to the _sight_ can be a dangerous thing," he said solemnly.

"I still have to try. Sansa…"

At that Uncle Benjen sat up rigid as a the Wall itself. "If I could cross the Wall and kill 'em all, Bran, I _would._ Your father's heart would break at what my niece has to endure and there'll be no rest for that bloody bastard's soul when he gets his due but as much as I _hate_ it too, each of us has roles to fill now. You can only guide, as much as you can, but in the end… we all have our fates."

He gritted his teeth and kicked some dust at the fire. "As much as it would kill him over and over again to see yer sister suffer, he would've been damn proud of her. _There must always be a Stark in Winterfell."_

My lips formed a tight line before I laid back down again.

"Where are you going this time?" Meera asked. "And so soon?"

I gave her a curt smile. "I may not be able to talk to her, or do anything more at the moment, but I can be _with_ her. _Endure_ with her. She shouldn't be alone not that she would want me or anyone else to witness…it. But this shouldn't be her burden _alone."_

And with that I closed my eyes preparing to wake up to Sansa's nightmare.

 

* * *

 

 

_**Winterfell** _

 

I was sobbing soundlessly but heavily while I tried to hold my sister's hand through it all. Kicking, shoving, hitting my sister's tormentor all in vain. He got up with a sneer and that fucking maniacal grin before throwing away his _toy_ for the night.

It was a riding crop this time.

I didn't spare him another glance as I heard him pull up his breeches, stalk out the room, and bar the door from the outside. My eyes stayed on my sister.

Looking down at my sister's battered form – those angry new red welts crisscrossing over old cuts and wounds and scars – some only a few days old… extending to the delicate flesh _from_ her shoulder… _to_ the backs of her legs…

Red and ravaged and marked…

She screamed.

She cried.

She begged.

To the monster's delight.

But I braved to watch her face the whole time while trying to hold her – shield her – but my intangible body wasn't even a whisper to her.

_She was going to be the Queen._

… _I was going to be among the Kingsguard or maybe her sworn shield one day._

But here we were.

Both of us _broken._

Her face.

Her _eyes._

He always… _took_ her from behind – telling her he needed to keep her _face_ pristine and taking her while she faced him was too tempting not to defile it. And also to further humiliate her.

I gritted my teeth.

He _loved_ to make her scream.

He _yearned_ for her to cry.

He _demanded_ she beg.

And my brave sister _gave_ it all – did all but I saw her eyes.

He blew the candles out and did not even bother to build her a fire, leaving the room a prison of darkness and bitter cold with only the sliver of moonlight from the bolted window to cast over my sister's ravaged form.

_The moon was a crescent, thin and sharp as the blade of a knife…_

Now that he was gone, all tears dried up, all shaking stilled, and all things broken was now one solid mass of hardest _steel._

One look in her eyes and I saw that through it all, she was _away._

And she was _numb._

Many nights for several weeks, she would stay like this in… the aftermath.

Still.

Silent.

Calm even.

It never failed to unnerve me.

She looked… _dead._

The first time I saw it, it scared me. It was a look that could go places…

Places that were nothing but darkness.

I was so scared for her.

Not because the bastard could kill her, but because she might do it herself.

But as I looked into my sister's blue eyes they were far from dead.

Our _Southern_ sister would prove to be the most Northern of us all after all.

Yes, she would submit to Ramsey's vile games but she was bidding her time, looking for the chance. _Enduring._ She would survive. Even if pieces of her died every day, she would still fight to the last.

I dared not enter her mind to spare her the privacy of her thoughts – the one sacred thing he couldn't take from her and something no one ever _will._

The last time I heard her thoughts was during one of her nightly attacks.

_\- I'm not here. I'm not with him. I'm worlds away. He may have my body, but he'll never have my mind. He'll never have my thoughts. He'll never have my truths. My mind is my own. –_

From there I stopped. I stopped reading her thoughts. 

Oh my dear sister. I remembered how you would wear your heart on your sleeve, eyes ever trusting, hand ever gentle, voice ever sweet as you sang songs on honor, beauty, and love. And growing up aspiring to be one of the knights from the songs you sang, I would always aim to please your ladyship. Asking you what I must do. And knowing that I was taught by the future Queen when I heard about your betrothal filled me with great pride and only made me yearn to earn a place in your guard.

But now.

Now lies came easy. Your eyes are guarded. You shy away from touching and endure being touched. Your voice sweet yet hollow and scripted. You have to hide your heart, guard it, lock it away, and throw away the key. Your mind was now constantly at high alert, defenses up from a never ending siege. 

After almost an hour's turn she finally moved, no trace of showing any sign of pain as she rose bloodied and bruised from the bed, sure and steady, enveloped by the darkness of the hour of the wolf.

She simply went to the antechamber of _Robb's_ former room – a room that only showed her comfort and happiness and protection now defiled and turned into the antithesis of all that the room and its former owner had for her. I used to think of what Robb would feel when they took the princess he spoiled to no end to be tortured on _his_ bed – how his heart would _break_ and his rage would _destroy_. But he was gone. He made his choices.

He's _dead._

Now Sansa was at the antechamber looking at the tub of icy water Ramsey always sent up for her indifferently.

He was nothing but meticulous about cleanliness despite his sordid compulsions.

Without flinching, or even batting an eyelash, she dipped herself in the half-frozen water, breaking the sheet of ice that started forming, submerging herself completely, and emerging, her copper hair turning almost black and sticking to her reddened skin like a wet pelt - like the _red_ wolf that she was but her eyes – _her eyes_ still wide open from the moment she went under until she rose from the water were glowing. One eye peeking out, the other covered by her hair. The eye that was visible was a brilliant blue, steady, _steely,_ frozen and blazing at the same time.

She wasn't just the red wolf in the North.

She was also the _Ice Dragon._

A blue glinting eye showing the North.

The true eye of the North that _remembers._

It was clear now. Very clear. To be able to go home, we would have to follow Sansa's lead.

She _was_ the North. 

Even if she couldn't feel me or hear me, I bent over and kissed her forehead and cupped her face.

 _I_ could feel her.

And she was cold and unyielding.

"My beautiful, strong, and brave sister. Hold on a little longer. You _will_ be Queen in the North."

 

* * *

 

_**Narrow Sea** _

 

"How long until we reach the harbor, m'lord?" A young woman with mahogany hair held back by a leather scrap at the back of her head asked the captain of the Cargo ship.

"Three days," he grunted.

She perked up at that and gave a small smile while she bent down and petted a small black cat.

_I found her._

We were all under the same dark sky.

_The moon was a crescent, thin and sharp as the blade of a knife…only a sliver fuller._

Her brown hair was almost past her shoulders now and her gray eyes held a hardness in them no girl of six and ten could possibly build on her own.

But _Arya_ has always been outside the norm.

And after days of searching, I was finally able to find her aboard a Cargo ship, sailing towards Westeros. And then I realized that probably the reason why I haven't been able to find her was because she was wearing a _face_ or she wore different _faces_ then.

It wasn't that I couldn't _see_ her when she was wearing a face. It was just that, it was like completely seeing another person. Although at the essence of it, at the deepest furrow of her mind, _Arya_ was still there, but she lets a completely different person take over until she completes her mission or specific _task_ she set for the face she wore.

It was certainly fascinating how she could tune in and out from being Arya without pause. The things she's seen…and done… I _shivered._

_Why must all of us be subjected to such hardships?_

I watched as she climbed down and quietly went inside the cabin she commissioned, bringing the cat with her.

I tried to search her mind but it was a baffling muted blank. And I knew she was preparing. For what? Another face?

I watched as she bolted the door and sat down cross-legged on the floor while placing the cat in front of her.

They were staring at each other eye-to-eye strangely. Gray against green.

And I gasped and saw her jerk as if she heard, halting whatever she meant to do.

Her gray eyes were milky white for a second before I interrupted.

Now she scanned calculatedly around the room, straightening, alerting her senses to any foreign movement.

_Arya was a warg._

And she was using a cat.

So not only does she operate on stealing faces, she was also _warging_.

I almost laughed in disbelief. Only _Arya_ could do as such.

Now I wanted to try something.

…

_My eyes opened to see gray ones staring at me. I blinked and gave an uncharacteristic purr to alert her of my intrusion._

_Ever sharp, Arya's eyes widened then narrowed as she regarded me._

" _You're not just a cat aren't you?"_

_I bid my host to sit on its hindlegs and tilt its head before blinking._

_She sighed then in a flash she was standing in front of me and I felt the sharpness of her thin sword on my chest._

_I mewled but stood firm, my eyes not leaving hers._

_I still wouldn't be able to talk to her. Not without a weirwood but she had to guess that it was me._

" _You know I have to kill you Cat. Or whoever it is that's rudely occupying my warging partner. I can't risk being found out, you know," she threatened._

_Then she lowered her weapon. "But I also know that only the blood of the first men can have the ability so at least I know you are of the North and share my blood. So I'm going to take a gamble here. One question, two fates."_

_She crouched in front of me. "Are you one of my brothers?"_

_I smiled inside and gave a meow. Yes._

_She studied me for a whole beat then her face crumpled as she sighed in relief. "Bran, I'd wager. I learned that all Starks can be wargs. And I doubt Sansa's awakened what with Lady gone..."_

_She then picked me up and hugged me. I nuzzled her cheek and licked it._

" _Yes, definitely Bran."_

_It was a strange reunion, but a reunion nonetheless._

" _I'm not even going to ask why or how. I've seen too many things not to believe anymore. Even if this turns out that I've gone mad after all, it's still something," she sniffled._

_She set me down again and sat on the floor beside me._

" _There is no possible way for you to talk unless you warg into a person – "_

_At that my ears perked up and twitched. I thought about it before but I couldn't. Warging into a person was difficult and Hodor was the only one I could successfully warg into._

_I looked at Arya and shook my head._

_She gave a sigh and nodded. "Can't do it?"_

_I nodded._

" _Well at least you can answer with yes or no," she shrugged._

_I nodded again._

_She tilted her head back and looked deep in thought, her hand absentmindedly stroking my fur. I couldn't help but purr in response, my host likes it._

_She looked at me then and offered a small smile. "Okay… Is Rickon alive?"_

_I nod._

" _Jon?"_

_I nod again._

" _Sansa?"_

_I didn't know why I hesitated but before I could affirm with a nod, I let out a growl._

_Her eyes hardened then. "Bran? Is Sansa alive?"_

_I collected myself and nodded, my head lowering a bit._

_She swallowed before speaking once more. "Sansa is in danger?"_

_I gave out a whine and a growl then I saw the anger in her eyes…as well as the guilt._

_I tilted my head at that in question._

" _I shouldn't have left her." Her face crumpled. "I…I didn't even get to tell her that I didn't truly hate her."_

_I leapt up her shoulder and nuzzled her cheek before jumping back down in front of her._

_She wiped the tears that almost spilled and nodded at me._

" _Are they all together?"_

_I shook my head._

" _But they're all up North?"_

_I nodded._

" _Are you? Physically I mean."_

_I nodded again._

_She gave a small smile then. "I'm going home too."_

" _Mrrow," I bobbed my head._

_Then her eyes flashed. "But I have to make a stop first." Her eyes hardened then relented as she sighed and looked back at me._

" _I suppose I should tell you my plan now."_

_I blinked at her and waited._

" _I'll travel to the Twins and avenge our mother and Robb – Oh don't look at me like that! I can do it. Then I'll try to look for Nymeria. I can_ feel _her. I have wolf dreams…"_

_I mewled in agreement at that._

_She raised a brow at me and stifled a chuckle. "I'm assuming you're saying yes to Nymeria right?"_

_I nodded._

" _I'll try to see what information I can gather… But Bran, I wish you could tell me now where our siblings are and what they're going through…"_

_How was I to show her to look for a Weirwood?_

_Then her eyes brightened. "Wait, I have a map! Maybe you can show me?"_

_I licked her face then. Yes!_

_She stood up and rummaged through her drawer where she retrieved a parchment._

_She spread the map over the tiny desk and I leapt up and waited for her._

" _Rickon?"_

_I placed my paw over Last Hearth._

" _So he's with the Umbers. Okay. Jon? Still at the Wall?"_

_I shook my head and placed a paw beyond the Wall._

_Her brows drew in confusion before giving a shrug. Watchers often ranged beyond the Wall._

_With a shaky breath she finally asked. "S-Sansa?"_

_I looked at her conflicted eyes for a beat before pointing towards Winterfell._

_She looked at me, eyes and mouth wide open in disbelief._

" _You said she was in danger yet she's_ home?"

_I just kept her gaze._

_Her hands shook and I saw the comprehension and…the anger that followed as she looked over to the places I've marked._

" _If she's in danger – held hostage in our own home, what the fuck are the Umbers doing? What in seven hells is Jon doing? I know they sicken each other but – but this is – this…"_

_I placed my paw over the shaking hand on the map._

" _I'm too far away. And I don't know enough to go blindly straight to Winterfell. Have you tried talking to the others?" she demanded._

_I nodded._

" _And I can't just go past the Twins without my revenge."_

_I lowered my head._

" _Bran, where do I go after the Twins? Where can I find allies?"_

_I looked at her and examined her face then looked back down the map._

_The vision I glimpsed of Jon gave me the answer. The first thought was to direct her to our great-uncle Brynden who was preparing to retake Riverrun but that was too risky. I saw the Blackfish die in one of my visions. Lord Blackwood would be loyal but he can't protect Arya. He could barely hold his keep. No. There was someone else she could go to._

_I padded over down the map and placed a paw when I found it then lifted my head to wait for Arya to meet my gaze._

" _Greywater Watch?"_

_I nodded._

" _But – it's near impossible to find!"_

_I walked over to her and nuzzled her cheek before shaking my head._

_I pointed over to a picture of a weirwood, begging with my eyes for her to get it._

" _Weirwood?"_

_I nodded._

_She sighed. "Okay, I think I'm trying to understand now."_

_I mewled in agreement._

_She smiled then._

" _And where are you little brother?"_

_I simply pointed out the weirwood again._

 

* * *

 

_**Beyond the Wall** _

 

I opened my eyes and saw the night sky my siblings and I shared from a tiny opening inside the cave.

_The moon was a crescent, thin and sharp as the blade of a knife…only a sliver fuller._

I took deep breaths and traced the dragon's body, ignoring the ache in my head…and my chest.

I felt old.

_Aged._

And just really tired.

I glanced around and saw that we were still inside the cave – the blizzard trapping us well for a few more days – weeks even.

I saw Meera huddled beside me, fast asleep, the weight of hunger, cold, and exhaustion catching up to her as shadows painted under her tear streaked eyes.

My heart lurched at how not that long ago she lost her brother and how she had to drag my useless body by herself when we escaped. And Leaf…and Hodor…

_My chest constricted._

And now I was sending my sister to her home.

So much.

I owe the Reeds so _much._

If only I could reach out and touch her cheek, catch the wayward tear that escaped just now but she was too far to reach with just my arms.

I sighed and moved my head to look around for Uncle Benjen.

He was on the other end, brushing the mane of his wight horse, bones and missing flesh visible beneath his blackened cold hands.

If he heard me, I wouldn't know.

It was just as well, I needed time to gather myself.

_The Three-eyed Raven._

There was so much I've seen but the images streamed relentlessly through my mind in too quick waves and successions that I feared I wouldn't be able to keep them _in_ or simply keep _up._ But I knew they were all _there._

Every little thing.

Every little memory.

Every little _truth._

_Brynden Rivers._

_Lord Bloodraven._ Commander of the Night's Watch. Hand of King.

_Targaryen._

" _A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing."_

A vision of Maester Aemon – the only Targaryen that was officially recognized to be alive said that before news broke out that her great-niece was still alive in Essos.

But he's wrong.

He wasn't alone.

Even in his death, he wasn't the only Targaryen alive nor Daenerys would be too as he lamented.

The Three-eyed Raven was another.

And I had a feeling there might be others. Another Targaryen with a different name, a different role, yet far away from _home._

In a way, us Starks weren't that different.

What remains of our name were scattered – in _hiding –_ forced to wear different names – play specific _roles_.

_The lone wolf dies…_

Were we the new Targaryens then? Or were us two families destined to meet again and again? Not at all that star-crossed as so much as predetermined when Rhaegar chose Lyanna?

In their veins run the blood of _old Valyria._

In ours, the blood of the _First Men._

_Dreams._

Dragon dreams.

Wolf dreams.

Theirs is fire.

Ours is ice.

I couldn't help the parallel – though we may be different our _songs_ were the same.

We just want to go _home._

I had to get to a weirwood soon. I _needed_ the touch to see further back. I could only access glimpses and blurs of the distant past, not as easy as I could access the years that was for each of my siblings.

It doesn't make sense – this _gift_ I had.

I was told I could only witness the past and never change them. That was fact.

But I can also get glimpses of…possibilities.

I knew they were visions of things to come not things that passed.

And they come when they come, and go when they're seen.

Starks can see the past embedded

Targaryens can see the future.

Did I have the blood of old Valyria in me too? I wondered.

I brushed that thought away. _No._

Maybe there was more to the greensight that hasn't been told yet…wait I remember now. Distant dreams… yes… yes, those who have the sight can have prophetic dreams too as Old Nan used to say…

Still. There was something _familiar_ with the glimpses. I don't really understand it.

Or maybe… maybe I've seen it all… before?

Maybe they were…memories?

_Time travel._

I cringed and chastised myself. Now really wasn't the time…not when there were so many things to think about.

Then I cringed again and almost let out a frustrated sigh. No matter how many times I go over all the _travelling_ I did to search for my siblings, at the moment nothing could be done but to stay still and _wait..._

I sighed.

I was also told that I can only see what a weirwood has seen but I've proven I had potential to find anyone now and see without needing the weirwood if I knew the person - like how I was able to track my brothers and sisters.  Gods, I had to figure this out and soon. If only I wasn't reckless back then. 

If only... then maybe Lord Brynden would still be alive. Leaf and the Children would still be alive. Hodor...Summer...

Now I had to live with that. Live the fact that I came into power too early and taught too little. Or was this really how it was meant to be from the beginning?

All the knowledge in the world yet all I could do right now was just to  _know_ and wait and learn. But yes, I had the power to know  _more._

I bit my lip. Even though I knew that, I couldn't escape the gnawing guilt that being in a position of having… _power_ and feeling that there was _more_ that I could do – _more_ that I _must_ do – that was eating at me every waking moment.

That incessant _need_ to search for any hole – any crack – any fray. _Anything._ I knew it was foolish. To seek perfection – to _work_ for perfection. It was foolish.

No plan could ever be infallible.

One can only deign to be prepared for several outcomes – foreseen _possibilities._

I know that my siblings would only ever see that I could only do so much in the end, never truly expecting – only ever grateful with equal parts hesitancy to receive any help, as people who've been relying on themselves for far too long would expect.

But they've all been working too terribly hard on their own, I had to do so too. I know that being the _Three-eyed Raven_ comes with a responsibility that I've really yet to figure out but right now, I don't care. The only thing that matters to me right now was to get the _pack_ together. And so far, there was nothing that indicated that I do so otherwise.

This power… one man in a thousand is born a skinchanger and one skinchanger in a thousand could be a greenseer…

I was both. And now, was _more._

The first time felt like _that_ day.

That day when everything changed.

The day I fell from the broken tower.

It felt like fear.

It felt like _falling._

" _What are you doing to me?"_

" _Teaching you to fly."_

" _I can't fly!"_

" _You're flying right now."_

" _I'm falling!"_

" _Every flight begins with a fall."_

I remembered that moment. That sudden drop.

That free fall that was fast as images blurred in and out – faces – places…

And at the same time, time seemed to stop once I've realized I was going down

                                                                       down

                                                down

                            down

             down

**down.**

But _not_ quite.

As if suspended in the interim while my mind caught up with my body.

Everything started moving _slow._

S _l_ o _w_

Faces – places – old and new coming clearer into focus.

And suddenly I was watching.

Transfixed in the moments that were revealed.

Soaking in each scenario, committing all to memory like I had no choice _. I didn't._

Questions. So many burning questions remained untamed and hot inside my throat.

That first time.

And it was only when the _Three-eyed-raven_ spoke my name did I realize that through it all, my feet never touched the ground.

" _You will never walk again, Bran…but you will fly."_

And I've been flying ever since.

I thought all along I was only a skinchanger. And that thought brought a pang of hurt at the memory of Hodor… of _Summer…once more..._

Slipping in and out of Summer was always a welcome _escape_.

I felt like weeping.

Summer's death meant a part of me died too. And there would always be a hole that could never be replaced.

Was this what Sansa felt all these years?

I sensed the _warg_ in her was strong and it broke my heart once more to know that she never got the chance to be bonded completely with _Lady._ Lady was the most beautiful among the pack, the gentlest, the most affectionate, the most trusting, well-behaved gray and brown wolf with the pretty ribbons and thoroughly groomed fur.

And what of Grey Wind? I heard the rumors that as Robb, the King in the North went to battle, he would ride his direwolf or turn into a wolf himself. Did he have wolf dreams too? The last word he said was his direwolf's name – did he warg himself into Grey Wind before he died?

I sighed. It wouldn't have mattered… three wolves died that night… and two trouts rejoined the Trident.

There were three more that lived. Shaggydog, Ghost, and Nymeria. Just as there were three dragons on the other continent.

Direwolves. Dragons. Blood.

I've always dreamt to be a knight like Ser Barristan Selmy guarding over the realm and being chivalrous to pretty nameless ladies or princesses I would always compare to my eldest sister.

And in my more creative moments, I would dream of being a dragonknight, and fighting alongside me would be Jon who dreamed the same and Arya – the reincarnation of Visenya Targaryen. While we held the South, my brothers Robb and Rickon would hold the North.

How quickly the tides would turn.

 _None_ of us were who we _sought_.

But.

I gave a grim smile.

But all of us were destined for… _more._

_I've seen it._

Thought very vague and very brief, I saw glimpses of who were to be – who we each _could_ be. But everything _would_ be only if we all go _home._

I closed my eyes once more, awaiting more images from the past, or the surrealism of the present, only to open them to the painful yet hopeful dream of the future.

" _The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives."_

_"There must always be a Stark in Winterfell."_

" _Morghot nēdyssy sesīr zūgusy azantys vestras."_

 

* * *

 

 

_**???** _

 

_\- I-I-I'm sorry. –_

_I felt my ears perk up at the sound, but my host stood its ground._

_For the first time, I didn't know what I inhabited. Clearly it wasn't human._

_But this host was almost like Nymeria. Wild. Instinctual. Untamed. As I tried to get a feel of it… Whatever it was though, it was tense._

_Tightly wound and hyper alert…_

_Defensive._

_I felt the low growl that was building yet never left as if the tiniest sound and movement might give him or her away._

_But that growl, the keen hearing, and sharp eyes… I was in another wolf. But I've been inside all three of the Stark direwolves, who was this?_

_Never the matter. I tried gaining some control of it but for some reason, this wolf – significantly less feral than Nymeria and Shaggydog, had surprisingly good control of its mind._

_I'm a Stark. I'm a friend. I only wish to see with you. I tried to communicate. I'm Bran Stark. I'm here to help._

_My host was not only surprisingly measured, it was intelligent. For it gave a nod and let me._

_The first thing I did when I took over, was acquaint myself with where I was._

_Snow would indicate I was in the North. But as I saw the line of oaks, the sentinel, the heart tree, the black endless pool below, I knew I was in Winterfell's godswood._

_The moon was fat and full. Stars wheeled across a black sky._

_And there on the ground in supplication was Theon Greyjoy._

_I wanted to let out a growl but my host wanted to whimper._

_Curious. Out of fear?_

… _or was that pity?_

_I held my position. Watching._

_I forgot how Theon was still here._

_Or rather…Reek._

" _Reek. Reek. Rhymes with meek. Reek. Reek. Rhymes with weak. G-g-gods I-I-I'm s-s-sorry."_

_He said over and over and over. But I had no sympathy left for him. Winterfell burned to the ground because of him._

_Rickon and I fled because of him._

_Two farm boys died because of him._

_For the longest time, no Stark except the bones lying in the crypts were in Winterfell…because of him._

_He watched._

_Useless as he was._

_He watched as the Bolton bastard violated my sister – the Princess of Winterfell – the future Queen in the North. He took her to him, himself._

_He watched._

_I saw him sit up bolt straight, eyes wide and afraid and searching while his body trembled with fear._

_Good._

_It was only then I realized the growling sound came from me – my host fighting to keep it in but I asserted._

_Why was it fighting me?_

_It should be launching itself at his neck but then I realized, disgusted as I was that he was Sansa's only hope right now._

_I took in his form. Dirty. Damaged. A complete wreck. And a vision of his torments quickly passed my mind – appealing to the tiniest compassion I still held for him._

_My sister's knight would have to be a this broken mess of a man._

_I growled louder – loud enough to startle him to back against the heart tree, his deformed hands – or what's left of them finding purchase._

…

_Estuary._

We were pulled where the river meets the sea – an enclave of brackish water.

Blue against blue.

Like the strong, beating, sure and steady flow of water running the steady course of the river as it opens and meets the quiet waves of the uncertain sea. Where the uncorrupted water from rain from ice from ground lose its purity as it goes along until it meets the salted infected depths.

Where blue eyes met blue ice.

"Hello Theon."

 

* * *

 

 

_**Castle Black** _

 

  _I didn't stop Ghost from letting out a series of whines as he looks at his master – as we look at his master who was by the window, standing vigilant._

_Outside, the moon was fat and full. Stars wheeled across a black sky._

_Jon was still…Jon._

_Ghost whined some more, finally bringing Jon back from his thoughts and from the window, his gray eyes softening as they met ours._

_In a few strides he is now in front of us, crouching to our level, his troubled eyes meeting mine for the first time in years that I almost lost myself and my control over his wolf the longer I stayed in his gaze._

_I blinked and he sighed before giving a tiny smile – the smallest lift in the corners of his mouth now more visible from his trimmed beard while he rubbed behind our ears._

" _We can't stay here, Ghost," he said, his voice low and roughened with sadness and bitterness, while his dark eyes wavered with fear interlaced with a soft anger._

_I tilted our head and maintained our gaze. Where will you go, Jon?_

_He sighed and closed his eyes for a bit. "Don't look at me like that, boy. The North isn't safe." He looked down and saw his other hand clench and shake._

_As I looked from his hand to his bared torso, I heard another whine._

_And this time it came from me – my host all that willing to acquiesce._

_Gently I prodded Ghost to walk closer and lick away each mark of betrayal on his skin._

_You can't give up, Jon._

_You can't run away._

_I felt hot drips meet my skin and looked up to see Jon Snow fighting his tears and failing._

_I went closer and nuzzled his cheek and he brought his arms around our neck._

_It's me, Bran, I wanted to shout. I wanted to drag him into the godswood but it was too far and his body and more importantly his mind were still exhausted._

_The whole of him exhausted._

_There was no more fight left in him._

_Not like this._

_I nudged and nudged him, pushed and pulled, until he reached his bed._

_Sleep now Jon._

_Sleep._

_For tomorrow you would have to pick up your sword again._

_And again and again and again._

_Sleep and I'll find you your reason to fight again._

_A loud thud came at the side of his bed. A small wooden box fell, its contents strewn out._

_Jon was already fast asleep and bone tired to take notice._

_I looked over the contents and internally gasped at what I saw._

_Letters. A piece of wood. An bronze cast knight. A weirwood leaf. A leather tie. An arrow head. And lastly… a blue silk handkerchief with blue roses and vines._

* * *

 

_**Last Hearth** _

 

_A howl erupted the silence of the night._

_The moon was fat and full. Stars wheeled across the night sky._

" _Rrrriiiiccckkooon," I whispered as the branches rustled and blood-red leaves fell over my brother's head._

_He looked up at once, expectantly, his eyes meeting mine through the carved weeping ones of the Heart tree._

_Without waiting further, he placed his hand on the ash-white bark._

…

"What news?" he eyed me eagerly – almost desperately.

"Arya is in Westeros at last, but still very far. I think she's in Maidenpool. Nymeria along the Riverlands where Arya is heading. And Jon is…back in Castle Black," I told him.

He nodded. "And…Sansa?"

I frowned. "Still in Winterfell…" then I let out a breath. "But not for long."

His eyes widened even further after a moment of sudden rigidness. "What does that mean?"

His hands clamped over my shoulders as his frantic eyes bore into mine. "What does that _mean?"_

I gave him a look and for a beat he relaxed a little once he understood.

I gave him a moment to process it, preparing myself for the real reason I was here.

But before I could say another word, he turned his back to me and asked. "How does this work, brother? Does this mean I have the greensight too? Being… _here?"_

I wondered that too. But he only ever _saw_ when I allowed him too. He must've touched the Heart Tree a hundred times over on his own but never did he tell me that he'd _seen_ things.

"I don't understand it myself, but here we are and that's what's important. Why'd you ask?"

I saw the whole of him tense up, his back straight and stiff.

I waited. It wouldn't do to push him when he wasn't ready.

"I just – it's just that, I don't remember anymore, Bran," he said slowly with measured sadness.

"What don't you remember, brother?"

There it was. That tiny shake his wound body gave away in a blink. "I just want to see… just one more time… just for a glimpse… Apart from you and Sansa…I – I forgot what _they_ look like…"

My heart broke and I realized how incredibly young my brother still was and how younger still when he had to bear the burden of being heir in a world where being so meant certain death.

"Somehow, that's…part of what I came here to show you," I answered.

He blinked and waited – a picture of patience, betrayed by the clenching and unclenching of his hands at his sides and the tell-tale twitch of his eye.

I walked closer then and touched his arm.

…

After showing him our father's best kept secret, I proceeded to show him two things more.

Below the heart tree there _he_ was, polishing the ancestral sword with a whetstone. And approaching, there _she_ was, her thick auburn hair collecting snow, a piece of parchment in her hand.

"Do you remember them, Rickon? Do you know who they are?"

I watched as he looked at them with eyes full of longing and anguish.

"Yes. Of _course_ I know. They're mother and father. But they're all blurry…"

"Look closer, go on." I prodded. He did warily, each step bringing him closer to them and closer to tears.

"I – I… I remember them now. I remember it clearly now. Oh mother! Father!"

I gave him some time to take it all in same way as I've showed him Robb when he was crowned, and Arya as she practiced with her _dancing_ teacher, and Jon being proclaimed the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch until the day his Watch had ended and then some. 

 _Remember_ them.

And never forget again.

But there was something else I had to show him.

I brought a hand down his shoulder and pointed. "Now, little brother. Look at them again. Look more _closely._ Tell me what you see."

He blinked and scrunched his face. "It's still them… only…younger?"

"Good," I nodded. "You're close. Now go even closer. Go on. _Look. Who_ do you see?"

He gasped.

"Sansa…and Jon…wearing crowns…"

I smiled.

"That's right, Rickon."

He looked at me then, eyes filled with questions. "Does that mean…? They look so much like mother and father. Is this… is this now? 

"No, little brother," I shook my head. "It's not now. It's only a possibility."

He looked back at them in wonder. "They look – they look so _happy…"_

I nodded at him. "They are. Or they _will_ be."

"But Jon is our brother...we share fathers...how...?"

I furrowed my brow. "I don't think he's...our brother. Not by blood. I have a theory..." I admitted. I had my suspicions but no matter how hard I try to access Jon's history, I couldn't go beyond the moment he was brought to Winterfell. I really needed to touch a Heart Tree...

"Who do you think are his parents then? But you can't deny he has Stark blood."

"Father came back home with Howland Reed, Jon, and Aunt Lyanna's body...I think he's our cousin, Rickon," I bit my lip and watched as he pieced things together. 

His mouth hung then he took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter, I suppose, even if he's not. Look at them. They're  _happy._ But if he  _is,_ then there is more that he needs to do than just take the North. I mean, they're wearing crowns!"

Then I sighed. "Only _if."_

"Only if what?" he asked, but never turned, too gripped by the scene.

"Only if Sansa makes it to Castle Black. And only if Jon agrees to march to Winterfell."

I saw a flicker of confusion laced with irritation cross his brow. "Why wouldn't he want to march to Winterfell?"

"He's tired, little brother. He doesn't want to fight anymore, only run."

A beat.

He crossed his arms and frowned. "Well, if Sansa makes it to him, maybe they _should_ run. I will not begrudge Sansa that, not when she spent too many moons imprisoned in her own home. At least wherever they would go, Jon would keep her safe. They'd be nameless and without titles and obligations. They could still be _together._ "

I gaped at him. Though it made all the sense in the world, it was far from what a Stark would do. "Then what of Winterfell?"

He scoffed and gave a hard shrug. "What about it? It's hardly restored. It's tainted and housed by traitors and even worse, _cowards_. And within the walls that witnessed our sister come into this world, Sansa's _screams_ and _cries_ filled every room, every hall, every wall – her _tears_ and _blood_ painted _our_ brother's bed and his floor. It's not home anymore. And I don't think that even if she died, I would ever be restored there. The North remembers, yes. But the North does _nothing_ but wait. Wait and watch and remember. Maybe they all deserve to be slaughtered by the Others," he answered, his voice harsh and bitter. "Maybe we  _all_ should suffer the cold. At least when they reach the South or head East across the Narrow Sea they'd have some time...

He looked at me then.

"Do you know, Bran? Do you know how I wish sometimes that Sansa would die? Death was better than every little piece of you being broken down and treated as shit. Sometimes I wish _I_ would die then maybe I wouldn't be suffer this helplessness or maybe my death would make the Umbers rally around the last known living Stark at last," he gritted his teeth. "No, I would not begrudge our sister's chances to be free. And if Arya too had any sense, she would head the other direction or even join Jon and Sansa."

I patiently waited out his ire before speaking.

"What did father tell Robb before he left?"

He snorted and shook his head, refusing.

"What did Robb tell me then when it was his turn to leave?"

"I wouldn't know, I didn't see him off."

"Yes, but I still told you. He said the very same words I told you when it was _my_ turn to leave."

I went in front of him and made him look me in the eye. "Rickon, there must _always_ be a Stark in Winterfell."

I watched as his face twisted into a snarl with tears springing hard and angry from his eyes. "Father and Robb each became the Lord of Winterfell as were you," he gritted his teeth. " _And where are they now, big brother? Both of them were honorable. Both of them were brave and valiant. Both of them are _dead!"__ He threw his hands up. _"_ Then it fell to Sansa and she's as good as dead. Who is next? _Arya?_   You?  _Me?"_ He shook his head and cursed.

"Now, while we live here and breathe her and talk and argue, there _is_ a Stark in Winterfell! And what good did it do to our sister – or to anyone?" he hissed.

I approached him cautiously and spoke to him gently. "You know that Sansa chose to be there. You've seen it too. She means to get it all back. You heard her say it many times. And no matter how disgusting and treasonous, its with her bastardized union with the Boltons that _holds_ the North by a thread. They  _need_ her. And she _knows_ that. That's why she  _endures._ "

" _I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell. This is my home. And you can't frighten me."_

He clutched at his hair and drew shallow breaths. "That's the _worst_ part!" That was when he finally came apart, weeping.

I brought my arms around him and patted his back. "What must be done, brother? Why should we move as if to take back Winterfell? What would be gained? Would it truly be better than living nameless and free? Far from all of _this?_ "

"Because we are Starks. Because winter is coming. We _must_ unite the North _._ We are the only ones who _can_ or the world as we know it would be nothing but ice and ashes," I whispered firmly.

His sobbing calmed and next he looked at me I knew he got it now. "What can I do, brother? What can I do to make sure Sansa makes it to Castle Black? To make sure that Jon fights for Winterfell?"

I ruffled his hair and smiled sadly. "I'm afraid I don't know little brother. Maybe keep trying to convince the Umbers? Or try to send Jon a letter? Sansa will escape and soon."

"There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. So once Sansa escapes, Winterfell will be denied of a Stark once more…" he mumbled.

I sighed. "Yes, but it won't be long. We'll take it back. A Stark will come back, but as a pack."

He said nothing and simply nodded while his eyes showed that he was thinking.

" _Young wolf? Wolfling?"_

Rickon straightened up and was alert at once. "Lord Umber," he muttered.

" _Young wolf? Where are ye boy? Yer sister has left Winterfell. She's escaped. Rickon?"_

At once Rickon's eyes shone with determination as he bolted away and broke from my hold, mumbling over and over.

_"No matter what. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell."_

And all at once a vision came and by the time it was over it was too late to stop it from happening.

…

" _Rrrrriiiiiccccckkkkooooon," I shouted but only great rustling and shaking of the ghost white branches and trails of falling blood-red leaves followed my younger brother's trail and onto the black direwolf with green eyes._

_Ghost white and blood red over black against white._

_Rickon was the last Stark meant to die for this war._

 

* * *

 

_**The Haunted Forest** _

 

Another awakening, another place, another time – I've been moved.

_The moon was fat and full. Stars wheeled across a black sky._

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Meera asked.

"I'm the Three-Eyed Raven now. I have to be ready for this."

With that I closed my eyes and touched the Heart Tree where Jon swore his oath, and opened them to uncover the secret that tied all the things I've seen. 

My eyes would never close again from the truth that I've witnessed. 

But one thing was sure. 

I  _needed_ to talk to my pack.

Above the blue eye of the Ice Dragon glowed cold and bright. 

I felt the chill of the north wind biting my skin as I watch the snow fall heavier than it did from days before. 

I heard the howls of wolves, the caws of crows, and the cracking of ice in the distance.

 _Winter was coming._  

It was  _time_ to go home.

 

                            " _Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?"_

                                       " _That is the only time a man can be brave."_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> AN: First things first – Morghot nēdyssy sesīr zūgusy azantys vestras. The knight says that even the brave men fear death. 
> 
>  It’s been too long! This can stand alone but it still fits the storyline I’ve written as part of a collection. I hope you like this companion story with Bran’s POV. This was truly one of my more ambitious projects. I’ve tried my best to be as close to canon (show-wise in timeline, but book-wise in detail) as I can while I weave in my abuse of artistic license here and there. I had to go back and re-read some Bran POV from the books and try on different styles to give it a sense of surrealism. It was very challenging to write because of the warging and the greensight (which I had to study on truly) and it demanded a completely different writing approach. I don’t really know, I just hope it made some sense. Then lets add the Arya bit and that was another challenge…and bringing his siblings to the sight, yet another challenge (and possibly the greatest abuse of my author liberties). And I can only imagine Arya’s POV would be even more of a mother to write..Oh to draft another approach to take care of the warging and the face-changing. 
> 
> For those concerned, I’ll try to get the finale of WWWG out soon but closing something is a process and it's crazy difficult. It might actually be easier to write the other companions except Arya's (gods, probably the most challenging). I already have a few pages of Robb's POV and an outline for Sansa's. But still, the next time I'll post, it's going to be the final chapter of WWWG. 
> 
> Until then,
> 
> Much love.


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